


Dramatic License

by slodwick



Category: Smallville
Genre: Alternate Universe, Crack, F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2003-06-18
Updated: 2003-06-18
Packaged: 2017-10-19 09:49:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/199542
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/slodwick/pseuds/slodwick
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hey, Smallville. I believe you've met monkeycrack?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dramatic License

"Angry Pussy will never find a decent drummer in this fucking hick town." Chloe said, flicking her tongue-ring in a terrible, unintentional tease.

"Yeah." Lana shifted, distracting herself with her chipped black nail polish. She needed unsexy thoughts. Like...

Pop music.

Pink clothes.

Her parents.

* _shudder_ *

Chloe leaned across the table, an evil grin on her dark lips. "Here comes your _boyfriend_."

"Stop saying that!" Lana frowned, and turned to see the skinny, red-haired disaster approaching, clutching his ever-present inhaler. He gave a timid smile before his eyes dropped to her breasts.

Lana sighed. God, he was lame.

"Hi, Lex."

  


*****

  
Martha sighed, surveying the closet she shared with her husband. The left side was filled with soft, fuzzy things, in every shade of pastel. Shirts were in front, then slacks, with sweaters and jackets towards the back. Each section was then sorted by color, like little Easter-hued rainbows had exploded in their closet.

Something had to change; the D-word loomed large. This wasn't the man she married. Out of spite, she grabbed a lavender sweater, hanging it between two of his teal dress shirts.

She left the closet smiling, picturing the abject horror on Lionel's face when he saw it.

  


*****

  
Nell slammed the phone onto the marble counter, vaguely missing the days before cordless phones, when a person could really slam a phone instead of just pushing a button. It was so much more satisfying.

She gulped the last of her mimosa, and snatched a leaflet from the tall stack in front of her.

 _Karraway Galleries Presents: Kyle Tipet, a One Man Show_

It was bad enough that the fliers were tacky and overpriced, but right there, in big orange letters, Lewis had misspelled his own brother-in-law's name. Kyle's agent would fix everything, but they never should have trusted family.

  


*****

  
"Lex, please… use your words." Brad was speaking softly, smiling at him across the Father-Son Healing Circle. Brad was fat and sweaty. He wore a cardigan year-round, usually some god-awful brown. He smelled like cat, and it sometimes irritated Lex's allergies.

Lex hated Brad. "Use your words"? What the fuck did that _mean_ , anyway?

His father, however, swore by Brad's particular brand of therapy. He sat to Lex's left, and the way his lower lip was trembling, Lex could tell a hug was imminent.

Lex almost smiled. He wondered what words his father would use after Lex shaved his head.

  


*****

  
"Lana! Get your ass down here and eat this fucking mac and cheese!" Lewis tossed an empty beer can, his fifth, into the kitchen wastebasket.

"Where's Mom?" Lana asked, clomping down the stairs in her combat boots. Her hair, short and dyed blue, poked boldly in every direction. Lewis was thankful Lana had opted for a long, _loose_ skirt today, despite the safety pins running down both sides. He'd given serious thought to burning yesterday's skin-tight, red vinyl pants.

"She's meeting with her parole officer. She's done at six, the Rabbit needs gas, and I'm drunk again... so, you're driving."

  


*****

  
Pete "Rocket" Ross was no fool.

Richest teen in Smallville, heir to a cream corn fortune, he was more than just his money. He was more than the star quarterback and valedictorian, more than the guy dating the head cheerleader.

But that was all they could see.

No one would ever know his secret dream.

Sitting in class, his mind was drawn to the box hidden in his closet. He'd watched the tape hundreds of times. The shoes he'd bought last spring were nearly worn through.

Each night, one name haunted his dreams.

Someday, Michael Flatley would answer his letter.

  


*****

  
Chloe looked up from her guitar when the door opened. Gabe entered, wearing a tired smile, and carefully balancing his briefcase, the mail and some take-out from the Chinese place down the street.

"Hey, Dad. Lemme help." Chloe moved quick, snagging a magazine just before it fell. She gave him a quick kiss, and then wiped away the black stain left behind on his cheek. The faint smell of creamed corn on him was familiar and comforting.

"Thanks, honey." He dropped the take-out on the coffee table, and pulled her into an easy hug. "What would I do without you?"

  


*****

  
It was late, but the deck was still warm beneath her. With her eyes closed, the sound of the ocean was amplified, the salt air more pronounced. Lillian sighed, enjoying the subtle sway of the boat.

"No peeking!" Pam's voice startled her, and a nervous giggle escaped her lips.

"I'm not! Just hurry up already!" It was Lillian's birthday, and Pam had been gone all day. She'd earned a little impatience.

She heard the click of a lighter, and then, "Ok... open your eyes."

She couldn't help her tears at the carrot cake. Pam had remembered.

It was Lex's favorite.

  


*****

  
Martha stopped to visit Jonathan after the salon. She knew the humid, late-summer air might wilt Joaquin's brilliant hairstyle, but it _had_ been a year. She figured she owed it to her first husband to at least put in an appearance on the anniversary of his death.

However, she ran into Cynthia Washington. By the time they finished chatting, the cemetery was about to close, and in the end, she only had a few moments.

She didn't mind, though. The last thing she needed was the entire country club hearing about her visit to the grave with the cow-shaped headstone.

  


*****

  
The clouds had been threatening all night, and heavy drops began to fall just as Lana passed Fordman's. She stopped, spreading her arms, turning her face to the sky. The water washed over her painted lips, and traced the curve of her long throat.

The rain reminded her of Chloe's eager kisses. Those kisses had been hot, where the rain was cold, but both raised goosebumps on Lana's arms, and both were just as welcome.

While Lana couldn't celebrate her miracle tomorrow when the local farmers would celebrate the rain, she thought a solitary moment on Main Street might do.

**Author's Note:**

> An AU where, much in the vein of _It's a Wonderful Life_ , Clark never exists. This was for both the [Tower of Drabble-On Challenge](http://www.livejournal.com/users/timian/9759.html), and the [Highlander Title Challenge](http://www.livejournal.com/users/joyfulgirl41/52950.html).


End file.
